Monachopsis
by ClockworkMaster
Summary: Why were his hands covered in blood? He did not know and he didn't want to know. He looked down at himself - there were no stains or tears on his clothes so it wasn't his blood... What happened last night? In which Honda wakes up to some shocking discoveries and assumptions. Story One of 'Of Monster and Men' horror story collection.


A/N: Happy Halloween! Last year, I uploaded a story called 'The Woman in Red' as part of a horror collection, 'Of Monsters and Men', however decided to take it down as it needed editing and it was just sitting there having not been updated for a long time. So, what I've decided to do is just post the stories as one-shots but they are still a part of the Of Monsters and Men collection; that way, there will be short and completed stories instead of readers waiting for me to update, which will take a while due to my current predicament. Warnings will be issued per one-shot depending on the content as well as any prior or background information for each story. I will put in a general overview of the story collection in my bio, but I will state that each one-shot is rated M due to various reasons.

So, this one-shot is a slight AU where both Honda and Jounouchi leave their gang after befriending Yuugi and take a better career path. Everything in the anime canon happens, except Season Four; this means that Varon isn't thrown into jail and Dartz doesn't have a role to play in his life. This part's important to remember - I won't say anymore but if there is still some confusion, I'll clear anything up in a PM or the next one-shot. Also, Honda attends Domino University whilst Jounouchi and Varon go to community college due to their subject interest (I'll leave that for you to imagine!)

That's all I have to say for now, other than enjoy!

 **Warnings: Violence; Blood; Death.**

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 _Monachopsis: n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognise the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you'd be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home._

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With the sun illuminating his bedroom, Honda squinted, unwilling to open his eyes. Fluttering open after adjusting to the change in vividness, he closed them again, this time tightly as he clutched his head, the sharp shocks of pain causing him to feel the after effects of drinking too much. Did he go out last night? He couldn't remember, too focused on the pain than to recall the events of the night before. But he did take the time to notice that he wasn't in his bedroom. In fact, he wasn't even lying down. Once the pain became a little more bearable, he opened his eyes and inspected his surroundings. He was definitely in his apartment, just not in his room. He figured that he was slumped up against the door from his seated position and the dull ache in his lower back. Maybe Jounouchi brought him back home and hadn't been bothered to put Honda in his room and had just left him by the door. That sounds like something he would do, especially if he was as pissed as Honda was. Is?

Pulling himself up with the wall as a huge support, Honda felt more injuries inflicted upon him that he hadn't been aware of until now. His left cheek stung from resting on the corner of the doorframe. A piercing ache under his sternum - heartburn. The throbbing under his right knee. Probably hit one of the stairs when coming back home; Jounouchi really didn't know how to look after someone when they were drunk. He took a step forward.

 _Blood. The metallic stench hit his nostrils like an insult to his senses. A knife glistened with thick crimson liquid. There was light from the streetlamp above him. A Swiss Army knife. A shriek of shock - or was it pain?_

Honda stumbled backwards into the door, eyes wide and panting heavily. The sudden wave of nausea from the... memory? trigger? hit him harder than he would have liked. Heaving, he staggered towards the bathroom where he emptied the acid from his stomach. He knelt there for a while, one arm resting on the toilet seat and his head hung over the bowl, just in case he had to go through round two. The nausea passed and Honda sat back against the white-tiled wall. He ran his fingers through his hair before letting his arm flop back into his lap.

"What the fuck was that?" Honda muttered to himself, screwing his nose up at the sour smell coming from his breath.

He slowly got up from his spot and cautiously made his way to the sink, wary that another memory or trigger would set him off. He washed his mouth out with some water and felt the need to brush his teeth, refusing to look in the mirror. As he reached out for his toothbrush, he become aware of the dark red stain that covered his hands. He flinched in panic, bringing his now shaking hands to his face for closer inspection. He could smell the faint metallic stench and saw how the substance was flaking from being dry for too long. He turned his hands the other way and saw his fingernails caked with the dried liquid. Feeling queasy once more, Honda rushed to turn the hot water tap on without the dried blood marking the tap. He thrust his hands under the heavy stream of water, wincing as the water scalded his hands. In his initial panic, he pumped at the hand soap, furiously scrubbing at the stains until he was sure his hands were purified. He let the hand towel soak in the water, flinging the towel into the washing machine afterwards with some Dettol fabric cleaner and turning the machine on.

Why were his hands covered in blood?

He did not know and he didn't want to know.

He looked down at himself - there were no stains or tears on his clothes so it wasn't his blood...

What happened last night?

Wandering back into the living room, Honda grabbed his phone off the coffee table. No messages or e-mails. So he must have done something after Jounouchi-

Was Jounouchi even with him?

Desperate, Honda rang Jounouchi's number, nervously pacing around the coffee table.

"Hi, this is Jounouchi. Unfortunately, I can't take your call right now but leave a voice message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Honda hung up as the voice recorder kicked in.

"Okay, okay, stay calm. He's just asleep or busy. He's fine," he mumbled to himself.

But he couldn't deny that something wasn't right.

The next two numbers he tried were Jounouchi's flatmates, Varon and Mai. Varon's went straight into voice mail like Jounouchi's, but Mai's began to ring. Hope fluttered inside Honda, that finally someone could give him an explanation to this whole ordeal.

"Sorry, but the number you are calling cannot take your call at the moment -"

Honda dropped his phone down on to the sofa, irritation coursing through him.

"Why is no one answering me?" he huffed.

Honda collapsed on to the sofa and turned the television on. He kept hold of the TV remote, in case there was nothing on and he had to channel surf. It took its time turning on, but when the screen changed, Honda was immediately engrossed. The channel it had turned on to was the local news channel. The familiar face of the news reporter was mid-way through his news story.

"Akane, any more news from the crime scene?" Honda's ears perked up, dread striking him like a concrete block to the chest.

The camera switched from inside the studio to the outskirts of the food market. A blonde reporter stood in downtown Domino, yellow police tape everywhere, her hair being blown into her face. She moved the hair that was covering her mouth and began her report.

"Yes, Sajou. Forensics at the crime scene believe that the murder took place between two and four in the morning. Police have described the murder as a 'horrific, unplanned attack'. Currently, no witnesses have come forward with any information about the murder and police are urging for anyone who may have heard or seen anything suspicious last night around this area to step forward. The body is yet to be identified."

Honda ran his hand through his hair and down his face, wincing at the soreness of his cheek.

 _Shit. What do I do now?_

He paced around his apartment. Should he call the police and hand himself over? Should he pretend he knew nothing? Well, either way he was going to be tortured with guilt so either way he was going to have some form of punishment. Maybe that's why Jounouchi wasn't answering.

Honda stopped pacing. _Please no... Don't be who I think it is..._

 _Blood. The Swiss Army knife. The streetlamp. The shriek - no, a male shout. Jounouchi screaming... But he's standing up, unharmed. A mop of brown hair. Jounouchi wasn't brunet...The knife prodding out of his chest. Varon..._

He didn't kill Jounouchi. He killed Varon instead. His breathing began to quicken, almost hyperventilating. _That's why they're not answering! They know what I did! Have they called the police? Do they remember everything that happened?_

Honda picked up his phone again and tried Mai's number. It kept ringing. As he was about end the call, a small voice whispered, "Hello?" down the phone.

"Mai! Thank God you're ok! Is everything ok with -"

"Listen here you sick bastard, I suggest you stop pretending to be my friend and go to the police before I track this phone call, ok? Do you even know what you've done? I bet you had a hell of a good time killing him," she hissed at him.

"Mai, tell -"

A buzzing came from the other end of the line. She had hung up on him.

Close to tears, Honda sat down on his bed (he had somehow ended up in his bedroom) and started rocking, his hands guarding his ears, scared that if he didn't, Mai's words would leak out.

 _Well, that was a great start._

 _Shut up._

Honda had managed calmed down enough to function again.

For the third time that day, Honda picked up his phone. Fumbling, gravity pulled the mobile from his hand and back onto the sofa. He picked the phone up again, irritated, and scrolled through his call log history, searching for any phone calls he may have made yesterday. He had received a missed call from Jounouchi at 18:44 as well as a voice message. Apprehensive, Honda replayed the voice message.

"Move your arse, mate! Varon's already on his third beer and your Foster's is now lukewarm. You're lucky I didn't drink it - oh! and you're going to repay me for this when you get here. Oh great - I have to go; Mai got here before us. You know what that means. See you soon!"

The voice message triggered Honda's memory.

 _Honda was running late. His lecture didn't finish until five-thirty, leaving him just an hour to get to his flat and get to the pub on time where he'd promised to meet his friends. He didn't hear his phone ringing as he raced from the station to his apartment near central Domino. He rushed around the flat, getting changed out of his 'university' clothes before making his way to the bar._

 _When he arrived, Varon and Jounouchi had wedged Mai in between them on one of the couches. Music was playing in the background, but not too loud that they had to shout to hear one another._

 _"You took your time! Wha' 'appened?" Varon said as Honda sat down. He took a swig of his drink and pulled a face at how warm it was._

 _"I had a lecture. And why's my beer so warm?"_

 _Jounouchi looked at him. "You didn't listen to my voice message?"_

 _Sheepishly, Honda pulled his phone from his pocket, and indeed there was a missed call and message for him. He played the message. When it had finished, Honda turned back to see Jounouchi's hand splayed out on the table, making a 'hand the money over' gesture. Rolling his eyes, Honda slapped the money into Jounouchi's palm._

The memory ended there.

Distraught, Honda played the recording again and again, hoping that he could remember more about what happened after that. Nothing else happened. He clutched his chest, flinching at the sudden shot of pain in between his ribs.

Scavenging through his kitchen cabinets, Honda couldn't find any Gaviscon for his heartburn. He didn't think anything was too unusual about his indigestion. After all, it could last a while if he hadn't medicated it. But he couldn't help but feel a niggling sense that something wasn't quite right about this pain. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he did feel peculiar, almost like his body wasn't familiar with his surroundings.

While the feeling was subtle, it continued to pester Honda as he locked his apartment door, a hoodie underneath his leather jacket to cover his face if needs be. He was glad to find he hadn't lost his wallet or else he would have been screwed. He walked out of the apartment complex with his head down, hands in his pockets. As he was walking, someone barged into him, knocking him sideways. He managed to regain his balance before hitting the ground. He turned around, shouting, "Hey, watch it, asshole!" but was completely ignored by the man who knocked into him.

He looked up long enough to see if any cars were heading towards him as he made his way across the road. The nearest pharmacy was a ten-minute walk from his flat; Honda picked up speed so he wouldn't have to spend too much time outside. He had only started to notice he had a slight limp as he neared the pharmacy. The automatic door slid open and he entered, relieved that he was the only person in the apothecary. He browsed around the aisles before he found the Gaviscon and without a second thought, picked up some Deep Heat for his knee. The girl behind the counter eyed him suspiciously as she scanned his items, causing Honda's heart rate to pick up. She bagged the medicine and handed it to him, still wary of him. Holding his breath, he paid and made a hurried exit. Exhaling, Honda jogged back to his flat, trying to ignore the persistent pain in his knee. He made it through the door to the apartment complex when another vivid flashback hit him.

 _Mai was using Jounouchi as a crutch, her ankle hurting from her high-heels. Jounouchi gripped her waist, ensuring that she didn't slip from under him. Varon and Honda were ahead of them, casually chatting about their football teams playing against one another in the coming week. They waited for Mai and Jounouchi to catch up, turning into the alleyway. They made it half way through the alleyway when a figure emerged from behind the clutter of bins near the exit. It came closer until it was under the streetlamp. A male in his mid-twenties stood there, staring at the four. Honda and Varon saw him and stopped. Jounouchi and Mai, however, ran into them, unaware of what was ahead._

 _"Ow! Why did you-"_

 _Mai looked up and saw the man._

 _"Hey, can I borrow a mobile phone from one of you? My phone's died and I need to call my girlfriend so she can pick me up as my car's broken down."_

 _Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Honda hesitantly gave the device to him, seeing no harm in doing so._

 _Nodding a 'thanks' at the group, the stranger tapped something into the phone and lifted it to his ear. He stood there, watching the others. Unexpectedly, the man turned around and ran away, Honda's phone clutched in his hand._

 _"Hey!" Honda and Varon bolted after him._

 _They were gaining speed, getting closer to the thief. Honda stretched out his arm to grab his shoulder-_

Honda dropped to his knees, scraping his hands. He was so close!

The flashback held a new revelation; he wasn't the one who killed Varon!

One of the tenants who was coming down the stairs gave him a strange look. He explained that his knee had just gone and he'd be ok. Honda hiked up the flight of stairs, anticipation coursing through him. He made it to his floor and took a few steps before realising something was out-of-place.

His apartment door.

It was ajar.

He knew he'd locked it when he went out - he always did. At the door now, Honda peeked inside. He couldn't see anyone, so he slipped in and crept towards the kitchen. Voices - two voices - came from his bedroom. Honda reached for the knives, then realised that he didn't need an excuse to put himself into prison for potential assault, self-defence or not. He leaped to the wall adjacent to where he was - the kitchen wall was a blind spot for people entering the apartment. He pressed his body against it, listening to the voices in the bedroom.

"There seems to be no signs of a break-in, but it's obvious someone else has been living in here."

"Do you think the kid has a roommate?"

"In a one-bedroom studio flat? I highly doubt it."

"Well, maybe one of his friends has a key to the place. They could've stayed in here for a while since they'll still be going through their grieving stage."

"If next door knew who it was, they probably wouldn't've called complaining about a noise disturbance or the possibility someone had broken into a dead man's room."

The two people entered the kitchen; Honda held his breath. Police.

"Poor kid. Only twenty. Killed in a pretty gruesome way too."

"It's a shame really. I heard he was a bright kid. Believed to become a success at one point in his life."

"Well, I suppose we better go back to the station and write a report. We might have to come back tomorrow, try to see who's living in here. Do you have the blood sample we collected in the bathroom?"

A rustle of a plastic bag. "Got it."

They walked out of the flat, leaving Honda in by himself.

Roommate. Dead man's room. Killed.

 _He grabbed the thief's shoulder and yanked him back towards him. The thief fell on him, twisting Honda's knee in the process. Honda bit his lip to stop him shouting out in pain. Varon was pulling the thief upright, his arms looped around the others to stop them from escaping. Honda stood up, leaning on his left leg._

 _He started searching the thief for his phone; during the chase, he had pocketed his phone somewhere as it was no longer in his hand._

 _The thief was struggling in Varon's grip. Honda felt the pockets of the offender's hoodie and found nothing. That meant his phone was either in his trouser pockets or he'd dropped the phone whilst running._

 _Neither Varon nor Honda noticed the thief grab an object out of his back pocket._

 _"If you want your phone, let go of me and I will get it for you. It's in my back pocket."_

 _"Or I could get it from your back pocket myself."_

 _"I don't want you touching me again so I'll make this easy for you and just hand it over. Anyway, I'm outnumbered."_

 _Honda and Varon exchanged a glance, the silent debate flying between them._

 _Slowly, Varon let go of one of the thief's arms as Honda neared them. Jounouchi and Mai were behind him, both rushing towards the trio._

 _The gleam of the streetlamp overhead reflected off a knife. The sweeping motion hit Honda's face, the blow almost expected but not the kind of blow Honda thought it would be. He fell to his knees, dazed. The smell of blood clouded his nostrils. He vomited on the floor next to him, the metallic stench of blood making him gag. His hands reached for his face; the deep gash in his cheek throbbed, the crimson liquid trickling down his cheek._

 _Varon was trying to pull the thief back, but now he was at a disadvantage. Elbowed in the stomach, Varon's grip loosened on the thief._

" _You've lost your touch, Honda. I suppose Jounouchi's in the same condition."_

 _The sharp, agonising pain in his chest brought Honda back to the present. He looked down and saw the knife prodding out between his ribs. He lifted his head up to stare at the thief. His hands were shaking, almost like he couldn't believe what he'd just done. The last thing he could remember was Mai charging at the stranger with a metal pole, hitting the side of his head with impact._

Honda slid down the wall, stunned.

 _This... This can't be possible. I can't be...no..._

Blood. Waking up leaning against the apartment door. The constant chest and cheek pain.

He needed to see the evidence himself. Reluctantly, Honda pushed himself off the floor and stumbled into the bathroom.

He was reluctant to look at himself in the mirror when he first woke up, unwilling to see the fear etched in his face. Now he wished he had. A deep, ragged line sliced his left cheek, showing the muscle underneath. Honda swallowed down bile as it rose up his throat. His face was covered with dry blood, flaking in the areas he had rubbed over while he stressed over the news. Turning the tap on, he rinsed his face in cold water, scrubbing around the wound. He patted his face dry with his face towel.

Holding the hem of his shirt, Honda slowly removed the cloth from his chest, holding it under his armpits. Another ragged, red line, wider in width than the injury on his face, surrounded with dry blood. He hadn't noticed during his earlier inspection of his clothing that he did have a tear in his shirt. Washing the wound, he let his shirt fall back down, wrinkled.

He didn't need to look at his knee; he knew he'd dislocated it when he fell.

There was only one thing bugging him: how did he still have his phone when it was stolen from him?

Maybe his phone had been near him when he died. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

He walked back into the living room and turned the television on. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his body stiff with dread. He waited for the evening news to start, hoping there would be a final confirmation within the news story if it were to be covered again.

Three witnesses had come forward and identified the body. They were being questioned by police and the murder investigation was underway. The thief was identified as a man named Hirutani, who was notorious for theft and gang-related activity. An old 'friend' when Honda and Jounouchi were a part of his gang years before.

Honda began to realise the harsh reality behind death. No bright light shone in front of him to take him to Paradise. The floor beneath him didn't shake and open up to show a fiery pit. No matter how a person dies, whether it is peaceful, sleep-induced death or a gruesome murder, neither go to Heaven or Hell.

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A/N: I wanted this story to be fast-paced as I felt it was more effective compared to my first draft which waffled. I hoped you liked this first instalment! Feel free to review - constructive criticism is always welcome!


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